


Centerfold

by kuonji



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-19
Updated: 2012-04-19
Packaged: 2017-11-03 20:56:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuonji/pseuds/kuonji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Physically, he wasn't exactly centerfold material, but he had a sense of dignity and... <b>experience </b>that Daniel found exciting.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Centerfold

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2007 [Jack/Daniel Ficathon](http://greensilver.livejournal.com/tag/j/d_ficathon), hosted by [greensilver](http://greensilver.livejournal.com/). Inspired by [Antares's manip](http://www.weblogimages.com/v.p?uid=stargatewalls&pid=634046&sid=Zch00djAE4) and written for [carron](http://carron.livejournal.com/), who asked for bottom!Jack and first time.
> 
> Alternative Links:  
> <http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/13111.html>

The hand around his balls was squeezing hard and fast. Daniel strained his hips, pushing up and meeting that welcoming pressure. "Yeah..." he moaned. "C'mon, harder."

The hand ran up his penis, torturing the tip with barely there swipes. "Gonna get inside you. You're not getting off so easy." The touch, far less innocent than it should be, squeezed once before sliding down the length, sensuous and perfect. Long fingers wrapped around his balls once again, and Daniel groaned, imagining the touch of a sweet, eager mouth.

Opening his eyes, he stared at the slick color face of a dark-haired man in the throes of self-pleasure. The face was red with passion, the hair damp, the mouth wide open. Daniel could just imagine his cock filling him up.

"Give it to me," he murmured, letting go his place in the magazine so he could use both hands to stroke himself. He arched, breathless, the still not quite familiar calluses from yesterday's rope-climbing practice making his own touch an enticing stranger. "Yeah, that's it, open up... nnngh..."

He took it slow, drawing it out, painting a heated picture of a private tent, with a Private at his personal disposal. "Better be quiet," he warned. "Your teammates can hear us. They'll be wanting some of this, I guarantee it."

His balcony blinds were partially open, striping Daniel's nude body with sunlit warmth. He could imagine it filtering through a camo-covered doorway. The carpet beneath him easily masqueraded as a standard issue army cot. "Give them a show," he whispered, nearly to himself. He could imagine jealous eyes and ears on him.

He pictured a whimpered protest, shaking fingers worshipping his thighs.

"You'll have to beg harder than that." He gasped as his purposely slurred fingers hit the hot spot under his balls. "Yeah, that's doing it. Just like that. Oh, yeah."

He couldn't hold off any longer. The fresh-faced Private with the fuckable mouth was begging to bring him off. His hands moved faster, and his hips snapped up. He whined, hearing the machine-gun breaks in the sound as he thrust.

Almost, almost... The enlisted men were masturbating to his sounds. The Private's tongue was broad and pink and hungry for him. "Please," he begged. "Please, sir, now. Oh god, please..."

He gasped with open mouth and came. Eyes squeezed shut, sweat in his hair, Daniel rode through the supernova behind his eyelids, then milked the last drops to let them pool hotly on his stomach.

Air bellowsed in and out as he cooled himself down, stretching and relaxing and basking in the afterglow. Eyes still closed, he zeroed in expertly on the tissue box beside his head, grabbing a few and cleaning himself up with a minimum of effort.

"Impressive."

The voice cracked through Daniel like a shot.

"Holy shit!" he all but screamed, as he rolled to his feet, clumsy with shock. "Jack?!"

It was indeed Colonel Jack O'Neill, a bemused smile on his face, standing beside the couch with both hands in the ample pockets of his khaki cargo pants. He swayed forward and back on his bare feet. "The one and only."

Daniel cursed himself for having stripped in his bedroom, leaving him no cover out here. He eyed the throw pillow on the couch, but realized that obtaining it would mean stepping closer to Jack. "How-- When did you--?"

Jack made a show of looking at his watch, tapping it a few times just to draw out the suspense. "Oh, about a minute now, I guess."

Daniel could feel himself going lobster red. A minute was more than long enough to get a good earful.

"Why didn't you _knock_?" Better to go on the offensive.

Jack shrugged, studiously nonchalant. "You sounded like you were having such a good time. I didn't want to interrupt."

Daniel took deep breaths to prevent oncoming apoplexy. "What the hell do you call _this_?"

A cocked head and parted lips were his answer. Jack had the gall to look slightly hurt. "You invited me. For the housewarming?" He pointed backwards with his thumb. "I brought a fruit plate. Man, they had these monster pineapple things..." He measured a two-foot tropical fruit. "But I decided on mixed. You know how Teal'c is."

"What?" Daniel cleared his head of Jack's inanities and glanced at the wall clock through his study doors. "The party doesn't start for another _four hours_ ," he reminded him. His embarrassment was fast turning into the usual exasperated irritation that was the norm around Jack.

"So we're agreed that you invited me," Jack grinned. While Daniel was occupied spluttering, Jack swung around and sat down. He made a show of looking around. "Comfy digs," he commented. "Hello, what's this?"

Daniel froze, following Jack's eye line. Jack had caught sight of his... inspiration.

Thankfully, the magazine had dropped face down, showing nothing more incriminating than a Gilette ad. For Real Men, it proclaimed.

Daniel dove for it, his modesty momentarily taking second place. There were still some things that Jack just didn't need to know. Jack was quicker, however, scooping up the magazine under Daniel's nose.

"Jack--!" Daniel took a breath, opened his mouth, closed it. He crossed his arms. Fine. If Jack wanted to play, he could take his knocks.

"Let's see what turns Danny's crank," Jack said jovially. He clasped the magazine between both his hands like some kind of offering, then opened his hands and let the pages fall open naturally, revealing Daniel's favorite 'piece of art'.

It was a mature man of perhaps forty, relaxed inside of his toned body, with a head of well-groomed military cut hair. Physically, he wasn't exactly centerfold material, but he had a sense of dignity and... _experience_ that Daniel found exciting. This particular shot was in black and white.

Jack's face registered shock. Blinking for a few seconds, he flipped to the cover, frowned at the slightly more modest photo there, then began flipping through the pages at random.

Bolstered by Jack's uncharacteristic confusion, Daniel took on a mocking tone as he remarked, "I know most of it's not realistic, but the salesperson assured me that at least one model each issue is an actual flyboy."

Daniel felt a wave of satisfaction when Jack made a sound somewhat like, "Urnghk," in reply. When he finally looked up, he looked completely pole-axed. (Daniel had never properly appreciated that term before -- originating from the armor-piercing weapon from the Middle Ages -- but it was obvious to him that Jack looked it.)

"Do you know how _illegal_ that is?" Jack moaned.

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying that because it actually matters to you... or because you like what you see?"

Jack's gaze seemed to focus, the harried shock in his eyes evolving into something else. Something flinty and real. "Oh, I think the second one's about right."

"Uh, what?"

Jack raked his gaze up and down, making Daniel feel abruptly on display. Not taking his eyes off of Daniel, he flapped the magazine in the air. "It ever occur to you that you could get the real thing?"

Daniel's mouth went dry. Jack couldn't mean... He would never...

But how many straight men snuck into a friend's apartment to watch him wank off?

"You're not... You're not offering, are you?" He had to make sure.

Jack shrugged expansively. "Why not? I offer. I suggest. I put in my two cents." He dropped the magazine on the couch and advanced toward Daniel. "Occasionally," he said conversationally, now close enough to rest his fingers on Daniel's sternum. "Occasionally," he confided, "I even _put out_."

Jack's smiling eyes were now taking up a ridiculously large degree of Daniel's vision. "I don't bottom," was all he managed to gasp out. A warning. A negotiation? Hell, an invitation.

When they surfaced from a scorching meet-and-greet of their tonsils, Jack pressed impossibly closer and answered, "Good. Because I never top."

Like hell you don't, Daniel wanted to say, but he was too busy moaning as Jack's fingers found his nipples -- and damn it, how had Jack turned the tables on him again so quickly?

"What do you want?" Jack breathed. "Let me take care of you. Sir."

Daniel jumped, shocked again. "Wh- What?" he stuttered.

Jack sank down on his knees, his hands coming to rest on the backs of Daniel's legs. The tips of his fingers brushed the insides of Daniel's bare thighs. "Don't turn me in, please. I'll do anything you want."

"Oh god. You're not serious."

But Jack really was.

His tongue was every bit as clever as Daniel's fantasy (the one that Jack had had front row seats to). It had the additional advantage of being thoroughly unpredictable. If Daniel had been able to again, so soon, he knew he'd be embarrassing himself supremely.

Jack pressed into his groin and inhaled.

"W-- Wait!" Daniel pushed away with a heartfelt groan. He fumbled blindly for the blinds behind him, managing to turn them closed completely.

Somebody catching sight of an archaeologist going wild in his living room was quite a different matter from somebody recognizing an Air Force Colonel going down on another man.

They were plunged into darkness. It felt dangerous. Intimate. Like anything could happen.

Like anything Daniel wanted could happen.

Jack was still on his knees, looking up at Daniel with predatory devotion. Daniel licked his lips, at first nervously, then exaggerating the move when he saw how it affected Jack. "Get up," he ordered, and felt a stab of lust-surprise-relief when Jack complied. "Strip."

Instead of disconcerting Jack, as he had hoped, the order only seemed to inflame him. "Yes, sir," he said, voice gruff with clear arousal.

Jack divested himself of oversized blue shirt, khaki pants, and sleeveless undershirt. When he got to his boxers, he eyed Daniel with a creeping, sly smile, before lowering them inch by slow inch. "Is this what you want, sir?" he asked, his voice the tone of faux-innocence.

He kept his gaze on Daniel's helplessly slack-jawed face, as he pulled his boxers all the way down, bending at his strong, supple waist. Jack stepped out and straightened with a sensuous grace that Daniel associated with the blustery Colonel only when out in the field, when stealth was required and Jack wrapped himself in dark black.

"Turn around," Daniel croaked, wanting to see all of Jack's body. The twist of an amused smile on his lips, Jack complied.

Jack's dog tags swayed with the motion, drawing Daniel's eyes.

When Jack returned to face forward, Daniel stepped close and entangled his fingers in those enticing bits of metal. Similar ones were featured prominently on camera in most of his favorite shots. He was already imagining them slithering over his skin, or drawing over his cock.

Jack jerked back, misunderstanding. He put his hands on the chain, lifting up.

"Leave those on," Daniel ordered.

For the first time, Jack seemed to falter. He fisted the metal insignias of his service, not moving for several beats.

Daniel's mind raced, reluctant to give up his fantasy, but not wanting to break the moment either. "Give them to me," he said. Jack hesitated still, but he dutifully lifted the chain over his head and handed it over. Daniel let it dangle in his hand, Jack's body heat still on it. He waited for Jack to focus on the tags, then slipped them around his own neck.

It was a risky move. Daniel wasn't an anthropologist by degree only. He knew that a military man's tags were a piece of themselves. He knew that for all of Jack's irreverent attitude, he'd given his soul to the Air Force and what it stood for.

He tensed when Jack's face tightened in surprise, then felt immensely gratified when every bone in Jack's body seemed to relax. "God, you look good," Jack said.

Feeling electrified with power, Daniel cupped Jack's jaw, eliciting a soft sound from the man. "This means that you're mine," he said. He made his voice harsh. "You won't be getting these back until you've done everything I tell you to do."

"Yes, sir." The response was faint, merely automatic. Daniel finally had Jack's complete attention.

Now he only had to figure out what the hell to do with it. After a brief moment of indecision, he pointed at the couch. "Lie down." He was obeyed immediately, with no sardonic looks. "Touch yourself," he ordered next, bracing himself for possible refusal.

Instead, Jack threw his head back and moaned aloud. "How did you know?" he sighed. "How did you know, Danny?"

The nickname was a surprise. Daniel hadn't heard it in literally years. It was surprisingly erotic, coming from a man he was in control of. A man who had lost control.

Jack cupped himself, no foreplay, and started a slow squeezing slide up his cock, letting the head pop out of his fist before squeezing back down. He continued this for long minutes, before switching gears.

One hand teased his tip, while the other clenched around his balls. He massaged them hard, digging his fingers below the heavy sacks. His toes curled at the stimulation, his heels digging into the cushions. "Uh, uh, uh," he groaned, stoccato with the rhythmic motions of his hand.

Daniel wondered, panting and hard once again, if Jack was doing this because he liked it himself, or because -- god -- because he had watched Daniel and knew it was what he wanted to see.

Daniel groaned. "That's enough."

Stooping, he retrieved the bottle of lubricant he'd used to slick up his hand earlier. He didn't use it any other way for himself, but he had a feeling for what Jack might want. "Open up," he ordered. "I'm going to get inside you." Jack followed instructions with a shocking lack of argument.

When Daniel opened the bottle, however, Jack shook his head. "Let me," he grunted. "Tell me to do it."

Daniel exhaled explosively. He had to control himself. "Okay," he allowed, handing the lube over. Wasn't it exactly like Jack to be a pushy bottom? But Daniel didn't care. He was watching Jack open himself up, three fingers slick. It was an extension of the show, Jack fucking himself with pleasure.

By the time he pushed inside, Daniel was reciting the Russian alphabet in his head to keep from coming. It was close even then, when Jack whimpered and Daniel realized it was because the dog tags had grazed Jack's chest.

He rocked inside, letting the metal flick across Jack's skin at each pass.

"Please, sir. Now. Sir! Please..."

"Yes," Daniel answered, ordered, pled. "Yes!"

They wound up on Daniel's bed, Jack draped over him in a humming stupor. He had no clear memory of how they had gotten there, but no intention of disrupting the sizzling glow that surrounded them.

When he heard Jack's breathing begin to even out, he poked the other man in the shoulder.

"Party's on in three hours."

A snuffling grunt encountered his chest, before Jack mumbled, "Cancel. Not moving."

Daniel grinned, feeling bold, the tags starting to feel natural around his neck. "You know it's a bi-weekly publication, right?" he asked.

Jack made no reply, but Daniel felt the curve of a smile against his skin.  
  
  


END.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was a little long in arriving at. Carron asked for bottom!Jack and first time, with no het and no death fic, preferably "Season 1; Daniel working his way through the ongoing military training necessary for field assignments."
> 
> My first idea had it all!  Unfortunately, I forgot to mention when I signed up (and this is my fault) that I'm a Daniel/Sha're fan, so it was really difficult for me to conceive of a J/D fic that came so early on in the series.  After much cogitating and some hack research, I figured a way around that and thought myself very clever, but alas, the more the story developed in my head, the more it became about Sha're, thus violating the 'no het' request.  So, Failure #1 (tentatively titled "Manly Ways") had to be scrapped.  Failure #2 had, as required, bottom!Jack, no het, and no death, but could by no acrobatics of my brain turn into a first time.  That one I posted as "[Barefoot and Pregnant](http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/12842.html)".  This story, "Centerfold", originally had a dominant and top Jack, but I changed it around, thus narrowly avoiding becoming Failure #3, and actually I think it's stronger for how it turned out.


End file.
